Not My Concern
by RandmWriter
Summary: He was supposed to stop worrying about them after graduation, dammit.


Logically, Aizawa knew his responsibility to them ended when they graduated.

Yes, he knew that nothing would change the fact that he was the former homeroom teacher of Class A, and yes, chances were his old students still saw him as a figure of authority - but objectively speaking, they were now his peers. They were fellow pro-heroes who earned their titles and ranks, and they could handle themselves as well as any other hero.

So, logically, Aizawa didn't have to worry. He could take a step back - after all, these weren't _his_ trouble magnets to watch over anymore, right?

Right. Now it was only a matter of convincing himself.

* * *

To be fair, it wasn't his fault his old students were _so damn reckless_.

He remembers the first time he officially worked with one of them: him and Red Riot facing off against a villain who could launch bullets and explosives.

Kirish- Red Riot was supposed to be his defense. He was supposed to guard Aizawa so he could get close enough to the villain. He was supposed to deflect bullets for the Erasure hero until his capture weapon could tie the villain up.

He wasn't supposed to take a damn missile _to the face_ after pushing Eraserhead out of the way.

Aizawa wasn't going to deny that he saw red after seeing - _hearing_ \- Red Riot's unbreakable form crack from the attack. While his eyes did water from straining them for so long, it was nothing compared to the satisfaction he felt from erasing the villains quirk and knocking him out in one go.

He didn't even bother to watch the police apprehend the maniac. He immediately walked towards his former student who was still on the ground, recovering from the attack.

He stopped a few feet from the younger hero, who immediately straightened up at his old sensei's presence.

Aizawa's bloodshot eyes narrowed.

"Explain."

Kirishima's laugh was a mixture of sheepish and nervous.

"Well, I saw the missile comin' for you, Eraser, and I really thought you were gonna get hit, and- well I _am_ your defense after all so…"

"So you thought you would take the hit, knowing _full well_ the time limit of your unbreakable form was running out. And don't tell me you weren't aware it was reaching its breaking point, because we _both_ trained to help you keep track of time."

Aizawa tried - he really did - to stop himself from lecturing Kirishima like it was the end of a practice spar, but another part of him argued that this was the more logical choice. The young hero was going to get himself killed if he continued to act like this.

It was his responsibility - _his duty_ as a fellow pro-hero to watch out for his comrades.

Yes. That was it. Duty and responsibility. Nevermind that the worry he felt took quite a long time to dissipate.

* * *

Aizawa thought he was doing well with his new "not-worrying-about-Class-A" routine. He was going strong and sticking to the regimen - not even going down to tell Iida off for getting himself engine burns after over-using his quirk when he saw it on the news. Telling Tensei to give his little brother a "friendly reminder" certainly didn't count.

Unfortunately, two months into the plan, he got a text from Yaoyorozu.

Apparently, Earphone Jack was suffering from a perforated eardrum, but was adamantly refusing to go to a hospital. Creati had tried ceaselessly to convince her to no avail - and so she resorted to calling their old teacher for help.

Aizawa wasn't willing to dwell on the fact that the Creation-quirk user thought to come to _him_ first.

Sighing, he dug through his first-aid kit for an old, expired medicine bottle, and set out for the address in the text. When he reached the two friends' shared apartment, he was greeted by a surprised Jirō.

"A-Aizawa-sensei!" she said, eyes widening in barely concealed shock. "W-What a surprise - is there something I can help you with?"

From his vantage point, Aizawa could see the bits of crusted blood lining his former student's earlobe - the sight making something build in his chest that he didn't want to name. Calming himself, he sighed before speaking.

"It's just Aizawa now, but that's not important."

The older hero fixed her with the stare he had perfected long ago. Jirō gulped.

"Why is Yaoyorozu texting me about you not seeking medical help for your perforated eardrum?"

It took a few seconds for the Hearing hero to register his words. When she finally did, she immediately tuned back towards the apartment with a groan of frustration.

"Momo, I _cannot believe_ you texted Aizawa-sensei and dragged him into this! I told you I was _fine_!"

"You most certainly are not."

Aizawa's stern remark had Jirō whipping her head back towards him, and for a split-second, the Erasure-hero saw his young student from Class 1-A, who was worried she had displeased her teacher.

Before Shōta could say anything more, Yaoyorozu appeared in the doorway, eyes shining with surprise and relief.

"Aizawa! Thank goodness you're here! Please come in!"

The three made their way to the living room's couch, with Jirō sitting at the far end - arms crossed and purposefully not looking her roommate's way.

Aizawa sighed again, before whispering to a worried Creati.

"This was Jirō's old brand of medical eardrops," he said, pressing the expired medicine bottle he brought into young girl's hands. "It isn't usable anymore, but it has the ingredients printed on the label. I'm sure you can search for the right proportions, so please make a new batch I can administer."

When Aizawa saw Yaoyorozu's expression, it was nothing short of awe-struck.

"Kyōka had thrown away all her old bottles in the move, and we couldn't get another without a doctor's prescription," she whispered.

Momo's eyes met Shōta's and they shone with an immense gratitude.

"Thank you so much, sensei! I'll make a new batch right away!"

Aizawa nodded.

"I'd like to have a word with Jirō, if you don't mind."

Nodding, the younger hero dashed to her bedroom, leaving the former teacher and student pair alone.

A few moments passed in silence. Then,

"Are you still avoiding hospitals for the same reason as before?" Shōta said. Jirō's face reddened.

"I-I know it's stupid, sensei," she whispered, not meeting the older man's eyes. "But the doctors always insist on checking my ears, and when they're all sensitive like this it just-" a frustrated huff "-it's _too uncomfortable_."

Aizawa hummed in understanding. He could sympathize; he wasn't too big on hospitals himself.

At that moment, Yaoyorozu's door opened silently, and she held up the small bottle of new eardrops. Aizawa took it from her, with a quiet whisper of, "I'll take it from here", to which Momo nodded as she retreated into her room.

Sitting himself next to Earphone Jack, Shōta held up the drops for her to see.

"I kept your old brand and had Creati make a new batch," he explained to an awed Kyōka. "I'd like to treat that eardrum of yours now."

Speechless at the fact her former sensei _kept a bottle of her old medication in case she would one day need it_, Jirō complied without a word - tilting her head and exposing her ear with the blindest of trust.

With practiced ease after years of using eyedrops, Aizawa dropped five drops of the solution into his old student's ear canal. Once finished, he capped the bottle and placed it on the table, allowing the silence that had fallen on the room to linger.

"I always appreciated it when you would be the one to do this for me, sensei" Jirō whispered after a moment. "Y-You do it really well."

At the awkward compliment, Shōta allowed himself a small smirk.

"It's no trouble."

His business concluded, the older hero stood and made his way to the door, but stopped halfway through the doorframe, speaking over his shoulder.

"I hope you don't hold this against Yaoyorozu. She was only acting in your best interest."

"…I know." A second of hesitation. "Thank you sensei. For coming and helping me. I… It means a lot."

Aizawa nodded and left the apartment, denying the warmth that bloomed in his chest as he made his way home.

* * *

As the months passed, Aizawa continued to watch over his old class, telling himself that any other hero would do the same for the community.

And so he messaged Satō about his glucose levels; he left a thermos of tea for Kōta after he had lost his voice from prolonged use. He sent Ashido medical hand cream and reminded Bakugō to take his joint medication. He brought Aoyama and Uraraka antacids, texted Asui when the news forecasted a particularly chilly day, and visited his old students in the hospital more times than he was comfortable with.

Before he knew it, half a year had passed, and the day came to announce the newest hero rankings.

Present Mic had dragged him to the official announcement event, and while he usually abhorred large social gatherings with the media recording their every move, he would be lying if he said he wasn't curious to see who made it onto the top list.

"You're excited for your students, Shōta, don't even bother denying it!" Hizashi teased, slinging an arm over his best friend's shoulder before recognizing a face in the crowd. "Look! Here's one of them now! Deku!"

At the call, Midoriya whipped around to see his old teachers making their way towards him, and his face broke out into a large grin.

"Sensei! It's so great to see you two here!"

"But of course!" Mic answered, equally enthused. "Shōta and I wouldn't miss your class' first hero ranking! Right, Shōta?"

Both turned to look at the Erasure hero, only to find him staring sternly at his former student.

"Your hands have new scars; I told you to stop overworking them. I see your legs take beatings on the news too," he said, almost accusingly.

At the rebuke, Aizawa half-expected the problem child to start panicking and rambling, reminiscent of the 15-year-old boy he once knew. But years of experience had worn away his old student's nervousness, and replaced it with confidence and a healthy dose of self-esteem.

_'It's a good look on him,'_ Aizawa decided.

Midoriya- _Deku_ rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh, not entirely certain how to respond to the reproach. Shōta spared him with a wave of his hand.

"Find your seat, problem child. You don't want to be late when they call you onstage."

The older hero had to fight a smirk at the teary eyes his words seemed to elicit, and with a final, "Yes sir!" Midoriya left his former teachers to find their own seats.

The program began, but Aizawa was only half-listening to the scripted introduction. Instead, his attention was focused on the backs he could see from his vantage point - twenty of them clad in familiar costumes he had seen constantly for three years. He tried to ignore it, but the tightness in his chest didn't seem like it intended to leave anytime soon.

_'Dammit.'_

Noticing his expression, Hizashi's features relaxed into a soft smile, leaning to whisper into his friend's ear.

"Don't worry, Shou. Your students are doing great."

Aizawa's reply would have been irritated had Mic not seen the barely-concealed fondness in the hero's eyes.

"They're giving me grey hairs, is what they're doing."

A sudden explosion of applause and cheers put an end to their conversation, and both heroes looked up to see the hero rankings finally flashed on the screen. Hizashi's face broke out into a smile at the new names on the list, but before he could congratulate his friend, he stopped short at the underground hero's expression.

His heart swelled at the sight; Hizashi had never seen his friend look _so proud_.

Aizawa felt a warmth bloom in his chest that spread steadily throughout his body - and for once, as twenty names he knew by heart stared back at him - he didn't even bother denying it.

He had an old class list that looked so much like this one.

"Your kids are wonderful heroes," Hizashi whispered after a moment, and he fully expected his friend to correct the teasing word choice as he had done countless times over the years.

_'They're my students, not my kids, Hizashi'._

However, what he received instead were eyes that shone with the fiercest of pride, and a smile that was a small, genuine thing.

"Of course they are."


End file.
